


Rarified

by htebazytook



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Airplane, First Time, Humor, M/M, Mile High Club, Porn, Romance, Slash, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 18:11:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1992768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htebazytook/pseuds/htebazytook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys are en route to a Star Trek event, but it isn't like old times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rarified

**Title:** Rarified  
 **Author:** htebazytook  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Warnings:** none  
 **Disclaimer:** *disclaims*  
 **Pairing:** Chris Pine/Zachary Quinto  
 **Time Frame:** early 2014  
 **Summary:** The boys are en route to a Star Trek event, but it isn't like old times.

 

Zach is almost comforted by it now, the routine of air travel. He's got his phone spot, his snack spot, in-case-of-spills napkins spot. He knows how to situate his legs and the best way to rest his head to avoid a crick in his neck. He's got a comb on hand for the inevitable cow-lick and his watch is already set ahead. Comfy in red and white sweatpants.

"Hey, the next part is crazy," a voice announces over the noise in Zach's earbuds.

Zach pulls them out to turn and reply, "Oh, the _next_ part is?"

Chris shoves him a little. "Shut up. I'm just saying." He's only got one earbud in, himself, and Zach can hear Bradley Cooper shouting tinnily from the one dangling like a pendulum over Chris's bleachy-white T-shirt.

"You know I appreciate your neighborliness in guiding me through 'The Wolf of Wall Street', being an expert because you just watched it before they brought us 'lunch', but the backseat movie watching isn't really enhancing my viewing experience at all."

Chris rolls his eyes and stretches. He's so restless and childish on planes, but Zach isn't pissed about it because he knows the alternative is Chris getting panicky about being trapped in an airbound metal tube with no escape. The considerable mini-scotches he'd ordered to help with that probably had something to do with how loud and attention whorish he'd become. "I don't know, Zach, as much as I hate to say it this movie isn't as awesome as people are saying. I mean the acting is amazing, don't get me wrong, but I dunno . . . the story's just not grabbing me, you know?"

Zach looks over at Chris's little TV on the back of the seat in front of him, watches balding!Christian Bale getting fed up with Fed!Bradley Cooper. "I still can't believe Zoe hit that. Well no, that's not true – I can't believe he didn't realize what a catch she was."

Chris shrugs. "Things fall apart."

"The center cannot hold," Zach says. Chris's shoulders jump with a little laugh. 

Chris plucks his remaining earbud from his ear, rearranges himself in a contorted position on his side and facing Zach. "I'm just tired of it, man."

Zach's still got one eye on 90's!Jonah Hill. "Tired of what?" Chris is buzzed, is what he is. Tired kind of came with the territory.

"Ugh, you know. Dating and shit." Zach stops listening to the movie, doesn't stop watching it. Chris hasn't talked about his love life in anything approaching genuine for years. Zach suspects he hasn't really tried to make anything work since Beau. They don't talk about any of this stuff, though. Even buzzed!Chris talking about this like it was normal is way outside their repertoire. "Like, I really must be getting old, Zach, cause it's like sex isn't even worth it anymore. It's just not worth all the fighting and walking on eggshells around another person all the time."

Zach frowns, movie veering entirely out of focus now. He doesn't want to look at Chris yet. "Yeah, I don't think you're doing it right if you're always 'walking on eggshells'."

"That's what I'm saying," Chris sighs. "I fucking suck at it, dude. I don't know what I'm doing wrong . . . "

Zach glances over. He's known Chris long enough he's starting to see him age – there's an extra line when his eyes crinkle up and the skin on his forehead is slightly less oily.

"Hey," Chris says, and the hushed intimacy of his tone feels so striking that Zach can't remember if he's always sounded like this. "We should watch something else. Like, together."

"Yeah, what do you wanna watch?"

They watch 'The Great Gatsby', and Leo swears significantly less. Zach leaves one earbud dangling because Chris is talking to him so much. In a couple more years they will have been friends for a decade. Zach's never been worried about that not happening. They go months without any interaction aside from Chris's random texts updating Zach on things that happen to him that make Zach laugh, Zach sending Chris big words he overhears like, _demagogue - angry subway commuter to a guy who walked too slow. a little much but still, props_ , or, _imputing - teenager from the school lady gaga went to, on the subject of sammy's boyfriend's behavior_.

So it hadn't been weird meeting Chris at the airport for this Spork-only charity appearance. It wasn't weird sitting so close and relaxing in the familiar Chris Pine cocktail of aftershave and LUSH soap and Speed Stick. It isn't weird the way Zach's whispered name in Chris's conspiratorial voice goes straight to his groin – it always has.

Chris snorts. "Oh my god, Zach, this is - "

"Not like the book? Really, Chris? Can it _be_?"

Chris laughs, shoving him. Zach swears that his hand lingers. "What am I supposed to do - _not_ point out Baz Luhrmann's shortcomings?"

Zach grins. " 'Shortcomings', Chris? That was low."

He grins right back. "I see what you did there." His eyes dart over Zach, still smiling with the new lines by his eyes but they're exactly the same otherworldly blue no matter how dark or bright it is or how long it's been.

There had been a time he'd been sure they were headed towards a relationship, Chris's all female track record aside – then had come too much work and tighter smiles when they reunited, small talk overrunning in-jokes, moving cities and moving on.

Zach doesn't know how to get back to that place, now. He's been chasing that first high for years and premieres.

"Hey," Zach says. "Hey can you move for a minute? I just need to - "

"Oh yeah, no problem. Want me to pause it?"

"Yeah." Zach ignores how much he has to brush against Chris's body on his way to the aisle. "Thanks," he adds, a beat too late so that Chris frowns and snickers and Zach just feels too weird about him, hightails it to the thankfully unoccupied bathroom toward the back of first class.

Zach closes the heavy plastic door, leans against it with a sharp exhale that does little to calm his nerves. Eyes the No Smoking sign reflected three times in three little mirrors for all of two seconds before digging his emergency e-cigarette out of the very deep pocket of his sweatpants, wondering if vapor will set the smoke detector off. 

"Yeah, fuck it," Zach mutters, flicking the e-cigarette on and taking a grateful drag.

And coughing immediately – because the door is being forced open and propelling Zach forward.

Chris shuts the door again quick, squeezing his way into a bathroom which can barely contain one 6 foot human, let alone two. And if Zach was having a conniption over his legs brushing against Chris's back in their seats, well, there was no escaping him now. Close and smelling good and hip attached to Zach's just so they both can fit.

Chris nods at the e-cigarette cradled by Zach's listless fingers. "Thought you quit."

"Me too." 

"What," Chris laughs, "are you that medium chick from the Real Housewives of whatever? She had one of those things right?"

Chris had only deigned to watch Bravo on one occasion – Zach remembers Noah barking at them drinking on his couch, Chris's yellow Star Trek hair and his shirt riding up when he reached for the remote.

Zach twirls the e-cigarette absently. "Yeah, I uh – yeah, I mean it's better than really smoking, right?"

"Let's see." Chris takes it out of Zach's hand, closing his eyes while sucking the vapor in and letting it leak lazily out of his mouth.

Zach laughs to cover the wave of want that assails him, about to make a joke but Chris drops the e-cigarette in the sink with a clatter and zooms in and forces Zach's eyes closed by kissing him so purposely that Zach can't laugh it off, soft contented sound in the back of Chris's throat paralyzing him.

"Come on," Chris says against Zach's jaw. Zach can feel him grinning. "Fly with me."

Zach raises an eyebrow. "That what you want, Ol' Blue Eyes?" He's not nearly as breathless as he feels.

Chris laughs into his mouth (kissing him again). "Just say the words, man . . . " And Zach loves it when Chris talks because it makes him want to fuck him til he can't.

The little sliding lock digs into Zach's back and his mouth falls open on a gasp because Chris's is pressing against it again. It's so fast and instinctive and easy, not the heart-racing affair Zach had always imagined during daydreams while Chris talked and talked in interviews. Zach knows how to kiss and Chris knows how to kiss and it's almost too coordinated and if it was so fucking easy to do why hadn't it happened before?

Chris moans - _moans_ \- into Zach's mouth, too, and it sets Zach's every nerve on fire. Zach keeps kissing him back, refusing to stop just in case stopping means there's no starting back up.

Chris moans again, frustrated, grabs one of the hands Zach had been clutching at him with and presses it between his legs and grinds into it murmuring, "Yeah, Zach, that feels good. Jeez your hands are big. _Mm_ . . . "

So Zach kneads at the hard outline of Chris's cock through the slightly stretchy jeans Chris wore while traveling, meets the shallow thrusts of Chris's hips into the friction.

Chris's groans start to string together so Zach slides his free hand behind Chris's neck to hold him still and drink them all in across the sloppy warm melt of their tongues. And it's fucking obscene just how good Chris's mouth feels, exactly has soft and hot and demanding as Zach had imagined, Chris's obsessive hands tearing through Zach's hair.

Chris pulls back from it though, and holy shit his lips look as good as they feel, red and slick and panting. They shape the words, "I want you so fucking badly . . . "

Zach practically whimpers because: "I fucking love that you just said 'badly'."

"Well yeah, I don't sacrifice my grammatical honor for the sake of your cock. " He pulls Zach's sweatpants and boxers down with zero ceremony. "Dignity? Sure. Clothes? Absolutely. But you'll never take my grammar." And starts jerking Zach off and kissing his neck very soft in contrast to the rough-random strokes he bestows on Zach's rapidly hardening dick.

Zach just mutters nonsense and gives himself over. When his eyes fall open on a particularly firm tug of Chris's hand the reflection he sees in the three little mirrors doesn't do justice to the swarm of emotions and sensations barraging him. The stretch of Chris's white shirt over back muscles taking up most of the mirror while the half of Zach's face that's visible is all wrecked hair and irises swallowed up in darkness.

Zach's hands scrabble at the white shirt, the gilded brown hair that's too short for grabbing. His heart speeds and Chris's hand speeds over his cock. Zach moans and Chris moans reedy and desperately in reply, bites Zach's neck to make Zach gasp a messy rush of pleas and praise before coming all over his comfy plane clothes and Chris's fingers.

Chris chuckles, straightens up a bit and smile-shrugs at Zach before using the sink and starchy single paper towels to clean up. Zach can't _not_ press up against Chris's body from behind, perfect ass and the hard bone and muscle of his back. Chris meets Zach's eyes in the mirror, the same blue and the same mischief.

Zach kisses the sweet-smelling nape of his neck, relishing the hum Chris gives up at the contact. His mouth trails over to Chris's ear to nip at it and Chris's eyelids grow heavy in the mirror, close reluctantly and struggle beautifully back open. "Shit, yes," Chris breathes, strange dampened sibilants in the plastic room.

Zach steps back, waits for Chris to turn to him and kisses him once he has, hands on Chris's shoulders to make him sit on the tiny toilet. Chris huffs a nervous laugh as Zach gets on his knees, does it again when Zach's mouthing over the bulge in Chris's jeans before pulling them out of the way. Chris's hand's already tangling in Zach's hair as he bends and sucks Chris's cock in, heady and musky and hot under his tongue. The way Chris's fingers and thighs tense, the sheer heat of his body and the perfect words he tries so hard to only whisper: "Zach" – "Yes" – " _Zach_ " – " _More_ " . . . 

A tentative knock on the bathroom door doesn't affect the rhythm of Zach's bobbing head or the restless upward cant of Chris's hips.

When Chris starts gasping, "I'm gonna, _ah_ oh God . . ." and moaning too loudly Zach puts his hand over Chris's wet bruised mouth and his strangled sounds vibrate ticklishly. Zach sucks him harder and takes him deeper until there's spurts of come hitting the back of his throat and Chris is shivering above him.

Zach is still comprehending that the taste in his mouth is Chris's and Chris is still panting with one limp hand on Zach's shoulder when there's another knock at the bathroom door.

Chris laughs breathlessly. "Fuck."

Zach watches his grin, agrees in a whisper, "Fuck." Stands up and takes a stab at putting his clothes back in order. He's fixing his hair in the mirror when Chris stands up to shimmy back into his jeans.

Zach watches him and wonders, suddenly, if it's a one-time thing. Or worse – a sometimes thing they'd never get around to talking about honestly. And most importantly of all, how the hell were they going to get out of here without the entire first class knowing that the mile high club just got two new members?

"So," Zach says, avoiding Chris's eyes in the mirror. "Plan of escape?"

Blurry, peripheral Chris shrugs. "Come on man, you're the brains of this operation."

"Okay, well . . . one of us could distract them while the other one . . . crawls out? Yeah that's stupid. Um. What about pretending one of is sick and the other was just - "

"Nah," Chris interrupts. "I say just fuck it." His hand had caught up with Zach's when Zach wasn't paying attention, inextricable.

Zach basks in the touch, matches Chris's smile. "Yeah, fuck it."

*


End file.
